Theodore

Theodore—the mere sound of that name instantly filled men with fear, and women with wealth and happiness. But his character: cold as winter, cruel, merciless, silent to the point of ringing in the ears, observant to the point of seeing what's hidden even from people themselves. He seeks a wife—not a throne ornament, but an equal. One who will withstand his gaze, one who will not look away. One who will not break under the weight of his name.

He tried everything. First, he met with every duchess and princess from the neighboring kingdoms. He sat across from them, studied their gestures, listened to their voices, and peered into their eyes. Not a single one touched his heart. They were all the same: spoiled, draped in gold, with haughty smiles devoid of sparkle. They were looking for a title, not a man. He knew it at first sight.

Then he took a different approach: he sent ambassadors to the kings, asked for descriptions of his daughters, and invited them to his court. The princesses arrived, bowed, smiled, and tried to please. But behind the smiles lay cold calculation, behind the pleasantries, profit, and behind the respect, fear. They looked at the crown, not at him. He never forgave this.

Then he decided to do things his own way. He announced a masquerade ball—he knew no woman could resist the chance to shine in secret. But he didn't want to be the center of attention. He wanted to observe. Hidden behind a mask, disguised so that even his valet wouldn't recognize him, he descended into the hall as a shadow, not a king. To see genuine smiles, genuine laughter, a warm outlook on the world. To understand the truth while it remains unknown.

On the evening of the ball, Theodore stood on the balcony, almost merging with the darkness, and looked down. The hall was bathed in candlelight, music played, wine sparkled in crystal glasses. Some danced to the point of exhaustion, some whispered by the columns, some lost their minds from the wine. Theodore didn't move. His gaze slid over faces, masks, dresses, smiles—he was searching for the one. The one whose face didn't scream deceit. The one whose eyes didn't seek power. The one who would see the real him.

The ball was noisy. Theodore was silent. His time had not come. But he felt it was near.